//------------------------------//
// Chapter 15: Restoring Order 
// Story: Havoc 
// by Histy 
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I have dueled many opponents. They were all the same: arrogant, selfish, and most certainly do more talking than action.

Pseudo-Stiermann was not among these people. He fought with silence, never speaking a word. He never bragged about any of the hits he made on me, nor did he brag that I still had yet to even scratch him. His face remained straight, emotionless. Lifeless.

And with him supposedly under the control of Grogar, it even made me a little frightened.

Putting my fears aside, I continued to battle him. Everything continued as before. I was making no progress whatsoever, while he continued to kick and throw me around, making me crash through walls at times. It's as if he were enjoying it.

Once again, I was kicked through a wall, my body contacting the ground like a rag doll.

In a steady motion, I rose to my feet once more, readying myself for battle again.

"I don't understand," Pseudo-Stiermann declared as he appeared at the hole I made, "You claim yourself to be a Goddess, yet you are bleeding, and outmatched. If you disappoint me further, I might spare you out of pity."

"Miseratio? Vos graviter minoris mihi, taurus."

Pseudo-Stiermann emitted a low chuckle, "Are you that frustrated? Switching to your old tongue can only say so much. I just wish I knew what you're saying."

"Pedicabo ego vos," I readied my staff once more for combat.

Immediately, Pseudo-Stiermann's expression turned serious, cold. Once again, he charged at me.

Instead of confronting him head-on, as I've been doing since the duel started, I dodged out of the way, his giant axe shaking the floor as it made impact.

Pseudo-Stiermann didn't stop there. He lifted his axe once more in swift motion, and attacked me again. Once again, I evaded the maneuver, the axe crashing into the floor.

We continued this dance. I avoided directly fighting him constantly, evading his every attack.

Pseudo-Stiermann never looked like he was becoming exhausted, never seemed short of breath. But his face was contorted into frustration. Just as planned.

"Cease your running, coward!" he shouted.

"Cesso tuus saevitia," was all I said in response.

"What is that supposed to mean!?" he was starting to get sloppy. A good sign.

As I continued to dodge his attacks in the infirmary halls, Pseudo-Stiermann was anything but pleased with my constant evasions, and was now blindly attacking me in hopes that he would finally land another hit on me.

All according to plan.

With all the pieces in place, I set my plan in motion.

Turning around, I ran away from Pseudo-Stiermann, him following closely behind.

He let out a war cry as he chased me as fast as he could. He was entirely focused on spilling my ichor, killing me, so much so that he didn't realize what trap I had laid for him.

We began nearing the end of the hallway, a dead-end that would ensure me no way of escape.

But instead of trying to move away or think of somewhere else to go, I picked up speed.

Pseudo-Stiermann laughed as we neared the wall, his face filled with undeniable sadism, "Got nowhere to run now, you little coward! I got you now!" He raised his axe, ready to finally strike me down.

But I continued to run.

The wall was closing in fast. This was my moment.

Using the wall as leverage, I jumped into the air, just high enough where Pseudo-Stiermann's axe barely grazed my skin.

I landed behind Pseudo-Stiermann perfectly balanced, and prepared my staff for the strike.

Pseudo-Stiermann tried to react to my sudden move, but it was already too late.

In lightning motion, I drove my staff through the back of his back, mortally wounding him.

Pseudo-Stiermann let out a scream of pain, before it turned into gurgles as he began to drown in his own blood.

After a few seconds of relishing in his soon-to-be demise, I pulled my staff out of him. Blood began to ooze through and out of the wound, sealing his inevitable fate.

After futilely attempting to stay alive, Pseudo-Stiermann dropped to the hard floor, dead. The purple mass which had emanated from him disappeared as his life faded into inexistence, his blood-red eyes returning to normal.

I stared into his lifeless body, disappointed.

Grogar was an excellent duelist, if my one known battle against him said anything. He seemed to have transfered all his dueling styles into Stiermann once he brainwashed him, but it looked like he didn't transfer his infinite patience in fighting an unengaging foe. This made his puppet into an impatient, brash dueler.

"Ita imprudens," I muttered.

Just then, I heard the clanging of armor, the shouting of orders.

Perceiving this as another threat, I readied myself for combat once more.

But instead of enemies, I saw my soldiers, all clad in black and orange colored armor which shined in the light.

They stopped for a moment when all of their eyes set upon me. They all held the same look of surprise and bafflement on their features.

After a long silence, their commander, a Praefector, came forward and spoke excitedly, a stupid smile on his muzzle, "Imperatrix! You are alive!"

"Of course I'm alive, you idiot," I responded harshly, "Now tell me why an army of recruits are in my presence."

The Praefector bowed, along with all of his recruits, "We are from Agoge Camp IX. We heard rumors of your demise at the hands of assassins, and decided to take action against those who who would dare kill our savior."

"And what of the other camps?"

"All other camps have also taken arms against your would-be killers. We also heard that Agoge Camp XVIII is engaged with enemy forces."

"Engaged? You mean they're fighting?" my tone became dangerously low, "They are recruits, Praefector, not soldiers. They do not have the right to be on the battlefield, yet you still choose to send them into battle?"

The Praefector raised his head, a worried expression on his muzzle, "Yes...?"

Without a moment's notice, I walked passed the Praefector. He was stunned for a moment, before turning and calling out worriedly.

"Where are you going?"

"To deal with this problem myself."

"But you could be killed!"

I stopped in my tracks, the silence afterward deafening.

I slowly turned around, looking at the Praefector with an unpleased look, my eyes narrowed dangerously as my staff's light brightened.

Thinking he convinced me not to leave, the Praefector emitted a sigh of relief, "Thank goodness, My Lady! We couldn't bare to-"

He suddenly lost his voice. At first he looked confused, lifting his hoof up to his throat.

Then, his expression changed to desperation, he began to choke.

Some of the recruits went to help them. They soon found themselves slamming into walls.

"If anyone attempts to bring aid, they will meet the same fate as him," I threatened. The recruits, now frightened at what was happening, did nothing else and complied.

The Praefector kept gasping for air, futilely clawing his throat with his hooves. The recruits were terrified with what they were witnessing.

Good. Let's give them something they'll never unsee.

"Look at you..." I said disappointingly, flailing as you attempt to draw breath. Do you know that being so careless could end your life just like..."

I snapped a finger.

The Praefector's neck bended into a ninety degree angle, ending his pathetic struggle against death. Quite a vicious sight, if I do say so myself.

"...That," I finished as his corpse collapsed onto the ground.

The recruits looked genuinely terrified at their Praefector's death. A stunned silence reigned until I spoke up again.

"Recruits," they all stood in attention. Whether it was out of fear or loyalty, I didn't know. Nor did I care.

"Where is your Magister?"

Silence was all that answered me.

"T-That would be me, M-My Lady."

I snapped my attention to the voice. A stallion flinched as I did, making me assume he was the Magister. His head was bowed, awaiting the fate I had for him. Waiting for me to do exactly what I did to the Praefector.

Instead, I smirked.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Praefector."

The Magister-Now-Praefector, of course, was surprised, but I payed that no heed as I left the infirmary soon after.

Now my objective was to find Camp XVIII's recruits, kill their Praefector, install a new one, and finally end this whole ordeal. After that, I'll spend my time preparing for the possible arrival of Grogar. Whatever happens, I absolutely cannot allow him to ruin my plans.

But the thought of doing that made me chuckle on the inside.

That's easier said than done, especially when you're talking about someone like Grogar.

"Hannibal ante portas," I muttered silently to myself.





The silence in front of the Grand Library was deafening. No one dared to move against the other, all fearing the outcome of the battle.

The sun was starting to set, enriching the lands in shined with an orange hue that only seemed to intensify the situation.

Contrary to what many have said, Camp XVIII wasn't engaging the enemy in combat, and Sword Cure hoped that it won't ever come to that. These ponies they were up against looked far more experienced and battle-ready than him and his peers. A fight against them wouldn't be that great of an idea, and their Praefector knew it. While the stallion and his trained soldiers probably didn't attack for the reason that they don't want to kill children.

All of the civilians had already left from the scene, fearing for their lives, most likely. Other than that, they served no purpose in the battle that could come.

In the time of anxious waiting and standstill, the commanders of the two opposing groups of soldiers spent it with arguing one another.

"So you have decided to bring an army of children against me and my soldiers?" the stallion on the Library's steps scoffed, "You are bringing shame upon them, both on my soldiers and your... recruits."

"The only shame is on you for betraying our people," the Praefector confidently responded.

The stallion on the steps scoffed once more, ""People"? Just listen to your words! You are letting her manipulate them! She's making you all her slaves!"

"She brings order to our mortal realm. We are merely helping her achieve her goal."

"Mortals?" the stallion was now in complete disbelief, "Now you're speaking of her as if she's a living goddess!"

"She is the Imperatrix. She is a living goddess."

The stallion laughed at that statement, "You're joking, right?" he gave the Praefector a mocking smirk, "If that were true, then she wouldn't be dead, now, would she?"

"A valid point, mortal."

All eyes immediately shot straight up, looking at whoever was speaking.

Seeing who it was made Sword Cure's eyes dilate and make him gasp on awe.

It was... her. The Imperatrix. She is here! She is alive!

...Although, with the look on her face, anyone would say that she was pissed.

She landed in front of his sodalitas, facing the stallion and his soldiers.

She then announced, in a booming, inpony voice, "I am a Goddess. I cannot be killed, I cannot be beaten."

The Imperatrix twirled her great staff, as if it was an undeclared threat, "It would be most wise for you to respect me for who I am."

Before the stallion could speak in response, the Praefector butted in.

"Imperatrix! Forgive me for my words, but the situation is already under control."

The Imperatrix' eyes widen for a moment, as though she had just remembered something important.

She looked at the stallion, "If You would excuse me for a moment."

Then, like a lightning bolt, her great staff perfectly sliced the Praefector vertically in half.

Sword Cure, along with many around him, were visibly shocked with what happened, many, including him, vomiting as the Praefector's halves fell with a thud, their bloody insides facing upward. Time slowed, but within that short time frame many questions entered his mind.

Was the stallion right? Were they in fact still slaves? Was the Praefector secretly in on the plot so that he could take control? Or was it simply the Imperatrix going on a wild rage after she discovered that the people she had helped save were now turning against her? All of them could be true. But he wanted to know the real story, not just rumors and fictitious tales.

Sword suddenly came crashing back to reality once the Imperatrix addressed the stallion again. She had a cruel smile on her face, like she has completed her greatest desire.

"Sorry about that. I just needed to set an example."

The stallion looked flabbergasted and horrified, and his own soldiers told the same story. Fear. Everyone was in full fear of the Imperatrix now. And it seemed she enjoyed all of it.

But the stallion rebuilt his courage, shouting at the Imperatrix, "You monster! You kill your ally all just to set an example!?" he then sighed in resignation, head dipping, "Truly, nothing has changed from the Tyrant King."

The stallion's head then rose, his eyes starring deep into the Imperatrix', "But that doesn't mean I won't give up like that. Like him, you will be brought to justice, and your tyranny over this city will end!"

Behind him, his soldiers cheered him on.

The Imperatrix looked most displeased, not out of irritation, oddly.

"Your spirits seem to be rising," she commented. Then again, her mouth twisted into a merciless smile, "but have you ever considered raising your physical beings?" the great staff began to brighten in color as she released a diabolical giggle, "I can help with that."

The stallion's soldiers shot up into the sky at lightning, all letting out terrified screams as they disappeared out of the sight of the eye, and into the cloud-filled orange skies.

The stallion was now alone, with no one to protect him. Now realising his visible vulnerability, he attempted to make a run for it, but was immediately halted when one of his hind legs viciously bended and cracked. So brutal was this injury that his bones pierced out from his skin, revealing the disgusting sight to everyone in the area.

Once more, many vomited. They were clearly not stomach-ready for war.

As the stallion screamed in unthinkable agony, the Imperatrix turned to his sodalitas.

"Recruits," she announced, her voice now firm, on-point, and normal, "is their any one of you willing to volunteer to put an end to this Proditor's wretched life?"

Silence was all that greeted her.

"...No takers? Fine, then, I'll choose one of you myself."

She began to look around the sodalitas, scouring, judging everyone she looked at. She didn't offer any look other than a blank expression. Nothing more.

Then her eyes settled on Sword Cure.

They held eye-contact for a brief second before Sword looked away and pretended to be none-the-wiser.

"Don't pick me don't pick me don't pick me..." he ranted in his head over and over again.

"Bat pony, come here," dammit.

Hesitantly, Sword stepped out in front of the sodalitas, and stopped.

A few seconds ticked by. And it irritated the Imperatrix.

"I didn't tell you to stop, I told you to get over here," if it were his Mana, she would be yelling at him. But the Imperatrix gave orders far more calmly, yet said calmness seemed far more fear-inducing.

Sword slowly walked towards the Imperatrix and the still screaming stallion. The Imperatrix showed nothing that said she acknowledged the stallion's presence. It was a situation that of one screaming to the heavens in hopes of the Gods answering his prayers, but no God listens.

Why did he make that comparison?

Sword Cure now stood in front of the Imperatrix. Now this close to her, her eyes seemed to hammer his own flesh with scrutinizing glares that burned him like he was on fire.

"Draw your sword," the calm order made him realize that, during the whole wait, he had drawn back his sword.

Quickly, he obeyed his Imperatrix, the sound of the sword leaving its sheath echoing around the area.

"Good," the Imperatrix commented, "now, kill him."

Sword set his eyes upon the screaming stallion, who's eyes were now begging for the opposite of the order he had been given.

Unfortunately for him, Sword didn't have a say whether he lived or not.

Deciding to just get it over with, Sword plunged the sword into the stallion's neck. Immediately, his screams turned into gurgles as he began to choke on his own blood.

The sight was immobolizing. Blood flowed endlessly from his neck wound and mouth, some coming out from his nostrils.

Sword Cure felt tempted to vomit again, but held it as it wouldn't be the best thing to do in front of the Imperatrix.

After a few minutes of struggle, the stallion finally let out his final breath, leaving the world of the living at last.

Sword Cure sighed as he put his sword back in his sheath. His time of recollection of what had just happened didn't last long, however.

"Letting him drown in his own blood," the Imperatrix observed, "not something I would have done, I'll admit, but I digress."

She turned towards Sword's sodalitas, who all bared expressions of uncertainty.

"Return to your camp. A new Praefector will be assigned to you shortly. In the meantime, your Magister shall take up that role."

Without another word uttered, the Imperatrix went off to the Palace.

Immediately, the manipuli began to reorganize themselves to head back to camp. Sword rejoined his manipulus, his fellow manipuli giving him encouragements and justifications for all that had occurred.

But even so, Sword began to question a lot of things. Why was the Praefector killed? It was all so... sudden.

Sword shook his head. No. He was getting ahead of himself. He shouldn't question the Imperatrix' judgement. She always knew what was right and wrong. She knew who was good and evil. She wasn't the Dark King, nor will she ever will be.

But Sword couldn't help but keep the thought in his mind. That maybe there actually was some resemblance to the two rulers.

The march back to the camp was silent and cold, in contrast with march out of its walls being noisy and warm.